Chronicles of Alphia
by Dragon Chyld
Summary: A series of short stories dealing with a variety of interactions between Albel and Sophia.
1. Pain

Chronicles of Alphia

A series of short stories dealing with a variety of interactions between Albel and Sophia. Bases on Jewel Song's fic 'Closing In'. I simply took the words for the 1sentence community and wrote short stories for them. This has been done before, by Statik in 'Just Between Us' and another type of fic like this was done by catesy in 'Moments in time'.

These stories may and may not link together. If they do, it will be noted at the start. This is where I go to write when I can't seem to gain inspiration for my stories…especially since each of these stories has an ending with each chapter.

* * *

**Pain**

**Time Frame: **After visiting 4D space but before fighting Luther

**Personal Interaction Level Between Sophia and Albel:** On a deeper 'getting-to-know-you' level but far from intimate.

* * *

He had become accustom to injury. He could feel the blood pouring down his back. Experience told him he was bleeding freely. At the rate of blood loss he would pass out within minutes.

His vision began to blur. Instinct alone guided him to sidestep and avoid further injury. He had been fighting for hours on end with no relief in sight. It was of his own free choice. He had chosen to abandon the party when his own inner demons allowed him no sleep. He had been on his way to re-join them but the beasts of the area had other ideas.

Long ago his anxiety and frustration had been exhausted. Following a trail of wreckage in his wake his thrill for battle had vanished. Fatigue had claimed its hold, and all he sought were a few short hours of rest. Regardless of his silent wishes, the nocturnal population had determined him more likely a midnight snack.

Holding on to the last bit of strength left to him, he drove his katana home before passing out, face down, in the soft dirt.

His ears were shut to anything around him. The rustle of a final opponent reaching him never found a place in his slumber.

* * *

She had a problem and one she wasn't about to run telling Fayt about. The whole thing was awkward to say the least. What had happened to her to bring it down to this? Why was it she couldn't even look at him without fearing she would blush brighter than a ripe apple?

He wasn't a knight. Elicoor didn't have knights, but he was a soldier. No, not a soldier – a captain! In his own way he was a knight, but the ethics code of a proper knight far from suited him. In fact, he was more barbaric than any fairy tail knight.

"Duh Sophia!" she whispered silently to herself. "That's why it's called a _fairy tail_…though Elicoor DOES have fairies…"

She quit her thoughts before she confused herself. As of lately, trying to figure anything out between reality and 'the virtual' was something she avoided.

She had wondered from the camp in the dead of night. Claiming the gentle breeze as her own, she stood for moments staring out into nothing. Her thoughts danced and in a trance she resumed her walk. She didn't plan to walk far. She had no visions of grandeur and didn't want to encounter any trouble. She didn't want to fight – just to think.

Her thoughts ended abruptly when she heard a deep growl. The vocal warning was followed by the sounds of something moving. She halted all motion, holding her breath. Her ears searched and found the source. To her relief the – what ever it was – wasn't headed for her. It had found something else of more interest.

She was in the act of taking a step back when the moon appeared from behind drifting clouds. Startled, she sprung forward instead. Her staff had been the last thing she had opted to take with her. She only had it incase…and incase had just presented itself.

Swinging it up hastily, she didn't think as she cast a cascade of fire bolts at the beast. There had only been one enemy and for the first time in her life she could be accused of 'overkill'. One monster, unaware of her presence was vanquished before it even knew it wasn't alone.

She ignored the familiar churning in her stomach as she rushed to aid what she had poured a lot of energy into protecting. Extending herself to her limits, she healed the fallen man.

* * *

His slumber was easily aroused. Full awarement empowered him to move at a speed that surprised even himself. Forcing his eyes to open, which proved undemanding, he searched for answers.

He recalled being in the fields that night. He remembered his fights and the wound that brought him down. That had been in the dead of night under a blanket of thick darkness. He had just awoken to a bright morning sun hardly peeking over the horizon.

Looking to the far horizon he rotated his shoulder. Involuntarily he winced, expecting pain that never came. Keeping his breathing steady, he balanced himself and prepared to stand when a sound, soft and subtle, issued behind him.

Twisting, he brought his knees under him as he faced the unknown behind him. In an instant he was relieved he hadn't drawn his sword. Though none were there to see, he would have felt irritated at his actions if he had drawn a weapon on the sleeping girl.

She stirred, bobbing her head as she attempted to wake up. Of all the ones at camp that could have found him, he would admit only to himself he was satisfied it would be her in particular. Having only said a handful of words to her, she had taken the courage to speak to him. Though he never cared for idol talk, he found her voice soothing and not everything she said to be ditzy as the women he was accustom to.

He sat and crossed his legs as he waited for her to grasp her predicament. It didn't take long. She sat up promptly and smiled at him with a groggy expression. After a series of yawns and stretches she finally found her voice.

"Good morning, Albel."

He frowned at her cheerfulness. "Bah."

She only responded with a smile as she lifted herself to her feet. "Well, it won't be long before the others are up. I better get back." She moved lazily pass him, demanding her legs to carry her despite the protest to fall back to sleep. "I'll see you at breakfast."

He didn't respond. She was a strange creature indeed. She left, not once boasting about saving his life. He knew she would also keep that secret from the others. To her the business of one wasn't to be broadcasted. Another difference he found refreshing in the alien girl – her will to avoid idiotic gossip.

But why had she saved him? She was the healer and during battle had shared her gift in abundance. She never hesitated to heal him or anyone else. But last night was different. He had noticed, while watching her stir, that the ground was charred to ashes not far from his resting spot.

He effortlessly pieced together what had transpired. His wound had caused him to fall. As he lay there bleeding to death, she had come to his aid. It was obvious that in a rush of adrenaline, she had totally obliterated a monster he had failed to catch. After saving him from death she had healed him completely only to pass out from the exsertion of energy.

* * *

A week passed. He continuously brooded about that event; letting it fester.

And an epiphany rendered itself to his extraction. Though this realization was not as he had expected, it was something he could only accept as the truth.

Through all his injuries he didn't feel pain. Pain on a physical level was manageable. Not even worth the effort to acknowledge. But what he felt now was a pain that resonated deep in every bone.

The final battle was close – practically around a corner and through doors that lead to the depths of hell itself. He followed his companions, glancing occasionally at the girl to his right.

She trembled slightly, but kept her face clear of any apprehension. She was more of a fighter than he had accredited to her and he welcomed his misjudgment. But what he did next even extended the limits that he himself thought possible.

Reaching out with his hand of flesh, he rested it lightly on her shoulder. She startled slightly but never let his hand lose contact with her. Green eyes begged him to continue though she had no idea as to why he had imparted such a gesture on her.

Wetting his lips, he spoke only loud enough for her ears. "Strength is here and no fear can be found where courage has dominated. Pain is nothing more than a name for things that hurt and all injuries in any manner can be healed."

She nodded, finding the meaning in his enigmatic speech. After weeks of talking to him, she had found a way to translate his words, even if none before had been as sentimental as this. In fact, prior to this encounter his words were philosophical daggers. And yes, she had found it amusing that he had a prominent philosophical side that he shared with her alone.

"I agree," she whispered, saddened as he withdrew his hand.

"_I feel the same, Albel," _she thought. _"I'm not worried about the struggle facing us through those doors. I feel the same pain knowing that soon it will all be over and we might have to part ways."_


	2. Tears

**Tears**

**Time Frame: **After defeating Luther.

**Personal Interaction Level Between Sophia and Albel:** That unsure stage where emotions are too raw for either to know how to express their feelings.

There is no connection in this to the first chapter.

* * *

Moisture, unwelcome, sped thin lines through nearly invisible creases in the skin. No amount of force could hold them at bay. They found their way out and exposed the core of emotions of the heart. A wasted action. There was no reason why such an act of nature should persist its presence among the unwilling. 

She extended her hand to him, but withdrew it quickly. Uncertain as to how he would react, she wanted nothing more than to prevent more tears from falling. She knew he hated crying, but it was out of her hands. This was something she had no control over. There was no way she could stop the flow of salty release.

He watched her hand shrink back with mixed feelings of contempt and relief. The last thing he wanted was to be touched. The tears were bad enough! Adding her touch to it might lead him to an endless road of loathing. And yet, at the same time, his skin crawled. It had wanted her touch. He had wanted to feel her warmth on his coldness.

Steady as in their course, the tears continued to drop. Water blurred vision in an unstoppable assault. Trying to will them away only forced them out. Negotiations would hold no bounds within the spent emotions trudging down each cheek. There was no end to it as moisture stained the ground between them.

She sniffed effortlessly, holding on to anything she could that might help. Her self confidence had risen some over the last few weeks; but she still felt inadequate under his gaze. The way he looked at her now only heightened her anxiety. She was nervous before the tears came; but now she was frightened. He didn't react well to tears and thus far, these tears were the worst of them yet.

He wanted nothing more than to seize her and end the futile bout of crying. He would not be responsible for a single tear for he had done nothing to cause them. It was her fault and her fault alone. He would no sooner take the blame before he would cut her heart out and be done with it. But for the life of him, he couldn't coerce himself to even reach for the hilt of his weapon.

In the dim glow of the street light, each tear sparkled like a star. In each drop was a universe of mixed feelings. Had there been a better time to cry, it was only second to this exact moment. These tears would determine the future of them both. Would tears alone be enough to insure that things ended as they should; or would they simply thwart any attempts at the happiness both yearned for? Was it a form of weakness or urgency that had brought forth the intrusion?

She couldn't hold back any longer. She had a decision to make and with each tear she leaned forward to a destination. This time weeping was acceptable in her eyes – if not long overdue. As the dirt soaked up each drop, her heart pounded. She sniffed again, holding back a tide of emotions building at the dam of her resistance. Without provocation she closed the gap between them and wrestled her arms around his slim waist.

He tensed as he peered down at her head pressed into his chest. Had he not been so distraught (for once) he might have thrown her off of him. The very thing he hated was the one thing she provoked; and yet…and yet it was something he accepted better than he had imagined he would.

Timidly, as if she would break under him – or he would find her to be nothing more than an illusion – he encircled her with his own arms. Keeping his focus on her, he couldn't stop as he watched each tear he shed blot the top of her head.

She had mentioned that she was free to leave and pursue her life as it had been before discovering 4D space. She had asked him to walk with her as she spouted about the things she could do when she was reunited with her own people. Still, there was a hesitation in her voice. Her tone quivered and he knew she was struggling.

When the tears began it was sudden and unexpected. She had never come close to crying though she was in turmoil. Only after his red eyes watered did she truly see the weight her decision had on more than just herself.

She had thought he might be glad to be rid of her. They had grown close, but he never initiated it. She had wondered on several occasions what his feelings were but would ponder on with no answer in sight. He refused to respond to her direct questioning and kept to himself what emotions he might have. She had a hint that there might be something buried deep in him. Something he fought to hide from her and himself; but she dared not think on it too long. She was careful not to let herself think something might be there if it wasn't. She didn't want to hope for the impossible.

Yet! Yet here he was, hugging her and crying. He didn't sob or shake or sniff his nose. His tears were silent and his face showed no expression. Where words had failed him, his tears had spoken.

And she would stay with him and insure that she ever again caused him to cry.

* * *

(A/N) I'm half asleep while writing this, so it's probably not going to sound like I want but I'm also too tired to really worry much about it. I was attempting to make it sound like it was Sophia crying at the beginning…but I don't know if it came out that way. 


	3. Chocolate

**Chocolate**

**Time Frame: **After the battle with Biwig.

**Personal Interaction Level Between Sophia and Albel:** Meeting for the first time.

This chapter's an extreme one…AU style with Albel and Sophia's roles completely reversed. She's from Airyglyph (still a 'mage' but not a captain) and he's Fayt's childhood friend (who would go to the simulators constantly with Fayt). Personalities have been altered to fit their new roles.

Inspiration for this chapter goes to Lucere for the lovely AU 'Crisscross Crisis' – which I can't review since Blue blocked me out of it…more joys to sharing a computer. Anyway, it gave the urge to write something with Albel and Sophia's roles reversed.

* * *

He huffed again, blowing his hair in a futile attempt to entertain himself. Of all the things to do, babysitting was not one he was fond of. Not that it involved much attention. The girl was still unconscious. 

If not for the Vendeeni, he might have been able to escape to Elicoor with Fayt. At least he would be able to hone his fighting skills. Fayt wasn't the only one who could wield a sword. But no! He was a prisoner while little Fayt was given free rein to gain enough experience to make him look like a novice.

He was older than Fayt and had practically taught the boy everything he knew about fighting. But now…now that little prick had passed him on a skill level. Albel knew he would rectify that as soon as he was allowed off the Diplo. He would not lose at this _friendly_ competition they had going.

Her soft moans broke his trance. Looking up, he saw her sit up. Her green eyes made a quick scan of the room before setting on him. He was, after all, the only other person there.

"Where am I?" she demanded harshly. Her voice was sooth and even. To him it was musical even if she was clearly unhappy.

"Aboard the Diplo," he replied, just as harshly. "Fayt insisted we bring you here for treatment."

Lines creased her forehead. "Humph. So I'm to assume I'm on a space craft? And my staff? Where is it?"

Boy was she demanding. And young. How did someone so much younger than him become so ridged? Fayt hadn't told him more than that she was an ally. The man, Cliff, hinted that there was more to the story but not much else.

He smirked at her. "Perhaps you hail from a planet of fools, but we do not. Your weapon, if you choose to call such a thing as that a weapon, is right there on the table beside you."

Throwing a frown at him, she quickly lifted her staff and exited the bed. Before she could respond to his taunt, she had noticed her new apparel.

"WHAT?! Who?"

He chuckled, despite himself. "Not to worry, the woman named Mirage took the liberty of changing your clothing. Your…uniform was soiled and she thought that color would bring out your eyes."

"This color!" she exclaimed as she picked at the pink vest. "It'll do nothing but make me an easier target. There is no way to camouflage pink and purple."

He stood, indicating his own purple tank top and matching pants. "And you are weak then. If you only hide from your enemies it makes you a coward."

She stiffened her glare on him. "I am no coward. Only a fool makes themselves so easy to spot. The element of surprise serves one well on the battle field."

"Battle field, huh. So the little girl is a soldier?"

She puffed out her cheeks. "More so than you, I think. Tell me, how many wars have you fought?"

He arrogantly dismissed her with a sway of his hand. "Wars are for the barbaric. Where I am from we fight for entertainment and we do so against opponents that aren't real."

She shook her head; chastising him. "Fighting opponents that aren't real does nothing to prove yourself. We are not barbaric! We fight for a cause which is more than I can say for you."

"Bah, whatever. You only wish to justify your actions. You take comfort thinking you have no choice but to take lives. I haven't yet to take a life and you call that foolish?"

"In war, its kill or be killed. That is something your friend has discovered but I wonder if you will be so lucky as to live long enough to learn for yourself."

Anger plastered itself in a bright red hue across his face. "Fayt? I can take him any day!"

She smiled. "Ah, so you do feel compelled to prove yourself better. You surprise me, foolish man."

"I have a name," he snapped back.

"As do I," she responded with lightning quickness.

He smiled, determined to gain the upper hand. "And it is Sophia."

To his dismay she didn't show any signs of surprise. "And you are Albel."

So, Fayt had mentioned him. He really couldn't wait until Fayt was able to update him on what had transpired while he was a prisoner of the Vendeeni. He simply had to find out more about this _creature_ he had just encountered.

She was more than apt to counter him at every move. He would have to change his tactic. Reaching into his pouch, he produced the candy bar he had managed to hold on to throughout his stay with the Vendeeni. Perhaps something sweet would be just the key he needed to throw a bit of kindle on the fire.

He tossed the chocolate at her, which she deftly caught. "Eat that."

And then he left, ending the argument before a victor was announced.

For a long minute, she examined the item. The paper wrapped around it sported letting she could not read. After removing the covering, she found a soft brown substance that looked far from appetizing. One quick smell dispelled her previous assumption. It smelled delicious.

Without thought she took a bite. Though there were sweets of high quality in Airyglyph, none tasted quite like this. This was perhaps the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

The food was quickly consumed and she resorted to licking any evidence from her fingers. He may have won this argument, but there would be more – she knew it. And if all arguments with him ended like this, they were well worth it.


End file.
